…mind talks…

writers

“Imagination is more important than knowledge.” – Albert Einstein (Photo credits to Alicia Ai Leng)

Where knowledge seeks to understand, imagination strives to satisfy its curiosity.

If we could turn back in our journey, wherever we may be leading ourselves to, and look at the origins of the term, it would mean a “lettered person” in Old French. On the surface level, art is about utilizing creativity and imagination to come up with something innovative, fun, and, well, creative. Most of all, to me it means a method of self-expression, the work itself symbolizing happiness, anger, jealousy, hatred, and madness. This does not come easy to all of us.

We express ourselves in various ways. Some of us spin around the dance floor, some of us write songs – but some of us also prefer to keep to ourselves and let the voices in our head do the talking. And it comes out; it comes out in shades of red, blue, yellow, and orange. At times it comes out in streaks of the pen as the nib scribbles through a blank sheet of paper. It gets petrifying, once in a while, especially when the mind is doing all the talking, and the poor, unfortunate pen has nothing to do but etch out the mind’s jibberish.

Hell yes, writers are artists too. Writers of every kind dances along the lines of words, making music in his own way – the words find a certain kind of harmony, a certain kind of tango, with a high or low pitch, and then connect themselves in coherent flow. Just catch a glimpse of Shakespeare’s work; how meticulous it was written, that till now, hundreds of years later, people are still scratching their little round heads over the meaning behind them all.

Anyway, there goes…. I have been “wearing” this hairdo for nearly a week by now – and it makes me strangely cool. At least that is the way I think. What do you think, anyway? Is it not a spectacular piece of art? Haha.

Breaded [sic] hair. (Photo credits to Alicia Ai Leng)

Artists have the capacity to imagine to greater heights. They have the ability to “wow” the average human being, because that is just what they do. Even the most famous inventors are artists, too.

So, yeah. Writers – we are cool just like that. We are bold. Brave. Courageous. In our own silent way.

PS.: Apparently my body needs a bit more body-rocking to get going. Just saying.

They say that writers are trapped, locked up in their own worlds. They say that artists are flying high in a different dimension, submerged in the incense of smoking opium and barbiturates. Is that really so I dare not claim.

However, I shall not deny that there is much truth in it. There is a characteristic of beauty in a mind left alone to wander about and linger on through the passages of conciousness.

One that is highly valued in a moment of solitude. No, we are not smokers of weed and nicotine, puffing wisps of fantasies into the crisp air. These are really periods of self-expression; of discovering oneself in a duty of such eloquence. Times where thoughts – our thoughts – are heard, at least to an eager audience. Times when we speak, hoping that the Outsiders take notice as we crawl out the Dream Tunnel, arms and legs outstretched like that of the spiders.

There shall be epochs where the world seems to crumble down in dusty ashes, only to arise from within a King so mighty.

We are the Dream Weavers, weaving ideas and connecting missing links together in hopes of patching up for a better world. We are the Sowers of the Seed, silently praying that the flower that blossoms out shall be blessed with showers of love, joy, and happiness.

There goes. Now what am I writing about?

Red Scarlet

PS: Anyway, it is about my birthday, it’s MY BIRTHDAY – so I got to spend my money. Taylor Swift needs to come up with a new hit titled Twenty-Three. =)